


A Dance for the King — Part VI

by sporadic_obsession



Series: A Dance for the King - A Medieval SakuAtsu Story [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Belly Dancing, Exotic Dancer Miya Atsumu, King Sakusa Kiyoomi, M/M, no smut though, they’re disgusting and cute and horny i guess??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29034333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sporadic_obsession/pseuds/sporadic_obsession
Summary: Atsumu and Kiyoomi deal with the aftermath of their engagement.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: A Dance for the King - A Medieval SakuAtsu Story [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112663
Comments: 13
Kudos: 110





	A Dance for the King — Part VI

**Author's Note:**

> Look. I sat down and I said “okay, I’m gonna write about this wedding!”  
> Then this happened.  
> I love these idiots in love, and I love the twins, and I love kuroken, I’m sorry. I like to think Sakusa and Kenma would actually be great friends, dunno why.
> 
> If you wanna yell at me on twitter about this, you can find me [here](https://twitter.com/sprdc_obssn)!

Atsumu is tired.

After accepting the King’s proposal, the dancer had imagined his life would be considerably easier than before. Knowing that his love is reciprocated should have been enough to grant him some peace of mind, in the end. He forgot an important detail, however — he accepted a marriage proposal from the King. He’d foolishly thought they could get married quietly in the gardens, like he’d heard from Bokuto his own wedding had been.

Bokuto is not the King, however.

After the two men declared their love for each other and the ring was slid onto Atsumu’s finger, he’d felt lighter than ever. He fell to his knees until he was level with the love of his life — his _fiancé_ , his brain supplied fondly — and leaned forward to kiss him until the two of them couldn’t breathe. The feeling lingered and carried them through the night, and now it’s morning and Atsumu is seriously questioning his decision-making abilities as he hears — for the thousandth time — the same question aimed at Kiyoomi:

“Your Highness, are you sure?”

They’ve been in the throne room for hours on end, rows upon rows of people making their way in and out to talk to the King. The same people who witnessed Atsumu’s parting words to their King during the ball, the night before, watch as he sits to the King’s right on his own throne, head leaning on his hand as he watches them right back, bored out of his mind.

“I don’t need to justify my decisions to you,” the King says, also for the thousandth time.

The nobles who have dared question his decision aren’t shy about their disdain towards Atsumu, but the dancer isn’t bothered by what they think, not when he knows the King loves him. He’s simply bored of hearing the same words over and over again. So far, every single person who Sakusa has told about their impending wedding has looked absolutely shocked, except for the castle staff. Atsumu has been on the end of one too many dirty looks from nobles who think themselves special, and that’s when they even acknowledge his presence.

“I know, your Highness, I just think you’re being quite hasty,” a man who Atsumu hasn’t bothered to even register the name of says, from where he stands at the end of the stairs leading to the throne. “My daughter is just in one of the rooms, I can call for her and you may take her as your bride instead, if I may suggest. She is of noble blood and well-versed in how to best serve you, I promise.”

“ _Blah_.” Atsumu didn’t mean to interrupt, but he’s so bored he’s lost control of his lips for a moment. When the nobleman looks at him in disgust, he feels particularly vindicated to raise an eyebrow at him, daring, before he turns to the King. “Kiyo, can I go see Samu now? I know ya wanted me here, but I’m so bored,” he says, brown eyes sweet as they look back into Kiyoomi’s dark ones.

“Just a little longer, love,” Kiyoomi replies, his hand — which has been firmly gripping the arm of his throne for a while now — reaching over to tug at Atsumu’s chin gently. “Come here, Atsu,” he whispers, and the dancer is more than happy to relocate from his own seat so he can settle on Sakusa’s lap instead. “Are they bothering you?”

“Not really,” the dancer says with a shrug, his own hand moving to cup King Sakusa’s cheek in a gentle cradle, thumb dancing across the soft skin. “I just wanna tell Samu, feels weird that all these strangers know an’ he doesn’t,” he confesses in a murmur, watching with a smile as his King tilts his face until he kisses the palm of his hand.

“I understand, we should’ve stopped by the kitchens to tell him first, I apologize.” Sakusa pauses for a moment, looking at Bokuto who stands to his left, holding back a smile at the public display of affection between the two lovers. “Bokuto, lead this man outside. Is there anyone else waiting?”

“Ah, I think only Lord Kozume, Your Majesty,” the head guard replies, giving a curt bow before he descends the stairs to escort the nobleman outside.

“Your Highness, please, reconsider—.”

“Oh my God, can ya shut up?” Atsumu glares heatedly at the nobleman, who gapes back at him. Bokuto is holding him by the elbow, and when the man makes a single motion to move forward, Atsumu sees his grip tighten. “Just go an’ accept the fact yer daughter’s not gonna be the next Queen or whatever it is you’re so upset about. Shouldn’t the King’s will be respected above all? Isn’t that what they teach ya in yer schools?”

There’s silence as Atsumu stops his tirade, the previous pleased expression from being so close to Kiyoomi having faded into an angry one that he barely allows himself to display. When he was younger and a little less mature, he used to be terrible — if it wasn’t for Osamu, he is sure he would’ve ended up in a lot of sticky situations due to his attitude. As he matured, however, he learned to pick his battles; there was no reason to get angry at passing faces, and it was easier to simply enjoy the good things he had the pleasure of coming across. Still, he could be thunderous — especially when he felt someone was being disrespectful or hurtful towards those he loves.

“Bokuto, just get him out of our sight, will you?” The King says to break the silence, one of his hands caressing Atsumu’s hip over the fabric of his pants. “Send in Lord Kozume, please. And can you ask Hinata to get Osamu and his lover from the kitchens as well?”

Atsumu relaxes into Sakusa’s chest as the head of the royal guards nods and leads the nobleman outside, the door closing behind the two and engulfing the room in silence once more. He wants to apologize for his outburst, he knows he shouldn’t make things even more difficult for Kiyoomi, but it’s been a long morning. The nobles that have come to bid their farewell after the ball have all been stuck-up aristocrats that grate on his nerves — the kind of men and women who would pay for his dances but then deny ever desiring such a thing.

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi whispers in his ear, and the dancer finds himself shivering slightly at the low tone of his voice, his flesh betraying the heat that swirls inside him by rising in goosebumps all over his arm. “If they bother you, you can tell me. I don’t have to entertain them if you’d rather I just sent them off and didn’t explain why you’re here, it’s none of their business in the first place.”

“S’okay, Kiyo,” Atsumu responds, nuzzling his cheek against his lover’s nose before he feels the press of his lips on his skin and smiles. “They’re not really botherin’ me, but it irks me that they’d dare question ya, of all people. I mean, I know I kinda did the same thing but, I dunno... I don’t like that they keep offerin’ ya their children as if they’re a pot of gold or somethin’ stupid like that.”

“Ah...” Kiyoomi’s breath fans over Atsumu’s cheek and he shivers slightly. “So it’s not that you’re bothered by their words, you’re just jealous,” the dark-haired King says, mirth in his tone as he leans his face down to the side of Atsumu’s neck.

The dancer feels the smile that’s on his lover’s lips before his teeth graze over the sensitive skin behind his ear and he finds himself exhaling slowly, a soft sound held at the back of his throat.

“I, uh... maybe a little?”

“It’s alright, my love,” the King whispers into his neck, and his fingers dig a little deeper into Atsumu’s flesh over his pants, possessively. “You have nothing to be jealous about, I don’t want any of them like I want you,” Kiyoomi continues, his voice a seductive murmur that makes Atsumu squirm in his lap. “I don’t love anyone else like I love you, Atsu. You know that.”

“Ahem.”

Atsumu snaps his head in the direction of the low voice that interrupts them, and finds a man with a wicked grin on his lips. He’s dressed impeccably, an obvious sign of his status, standing next to a shorter man with his hair pulled back into a low ponytail, who looks almost as bored as Atsumu felt earlier. Bokuto stands besides the two, his hand covering the lower half of his face, but his eyes betray the way he’s smiling behind it.

“Ah. Lord Kozume, welcome,” the King says as if he wasn’t just riling Atsumu up in his lap with the low rumble of his voice. “I see you’ve brought your husband as well,” he says, and Atsumu tilts his head a little, looking between the two men.

He assumes the taller man to be Lord Kozume, because his stance exudes nobility. He tries not to show his surprise when the shorter of the two is the one who replies.

“How many times have I asked you to call me by my given name?” The Lord says, his voice almost too quiet and casual, considering he’s addressing the King. “I assume this is your husband-to-be, if I’m to believe the murmurs roaming through the castle.”

“Indeed,” Kiyoomi says instantly, a smile on his lips as he turns Atsumu in his lap slightly so that he’s facing the couple at the bottom of the stairs. “Atsumu, these are the Lords of Nekoma, Kozume Kenma and his husband Kozume Tetsurou. They are long-time allies and friends of mine,” he introduces, placing a kiss on Atsumu’s exposed shoulder right after, before he looks at the men Bokuto has brought in. “This is my fiancé, Miya Atsumu.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your Highness,” the taller Kozume says, bowing curtly with his husband following right after.

Atsumu’s brain seems to short-circuit at the gesture, surprised by the way he’s addressed. Of all the people he’s had to deal with through the morning, this couple are the only ones who have addressed him as if he’s royalty, as well. He blinks a few times as he tries to find the words to say, brown eyes blown wide as he struggles to respond.

“I, uh, please stop doin’ that,” he ends up mumbling, standing from his comfortable seat on the King’s lap to leap down the stairs until he stands on the last step. He finds it easier to navigate the situation when the two lords straighten up, offering them a wide grin. “Just Atsumu’s fine, really. It’s nice to meet’cha, if you’re really Omi’s friends.”

“Ah, you really are a commoner like they say,” the tallest of the Kozume Lords says with a grin, and Atsumu’s own grin freezes on his face for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. He guesses he must look displeased enough about the comment since the man holds up both hands. “I don’t mean to say there’s anything wrong with that, don’t get me wrong. I’ve been a part of Kenma’s staff all my life until he decided he wanted to marry, I know what it’s like to be looked down on.”

“Oh,” Atsumu blinks, surprised at the explanation.

“Shut up, Kuro,” the shorter of the two lords says, rolling his eyes despite the minuscule smile that tugs at his lips. “Forgive my husband, he doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. Congratulations on the engagement. We need to leave soon, but we’ll be expecting the invitations for the ceremony.”

“Of course.” Atsumu startles when he hears Kiyoomi’s voice beside him, noticing the man has descended the stairs to join him at the last step. “Thank you for attending the ball and stopping by today, Kozu— Kenma.”

“It’s no problem.” The two lords bow in synchrony, before straightening and offering a small wave. “Thank you for having us, we’ll see each other soon, hopefully.”

“Don’t let the other idiots get to you, new blood. They’re all a bunch of jealous assholes, anyway,” Kozume Tetsurou says as he turns his back to leave, a hand patting Bokuto’s shoulder where he stands, as he holds his husband’s own hand in the other.

Atsumu can’t help the grin that overtakes his features at the words, especially when he hears the soft huff of laughter Kiyoomi tries to disguise, next to him. He looks at his husband-to-be, the King of their land, and his smile morphs into a loving one. He leans over to grab his hand as the two Lords leave, tugging him until they’re standing chest to chest.

“I really do love ya, y’know?” Atsumu whispers, his free hand navigating to the back of Kiyoomi’s neck, pulling him down until their lips are only a breath apart.

“I know, Atsu. I love you too,” the King whispers back lovingly, closing the distance between them and pressing his lips against Atsumu’s pink flesh, eyes closing in the process.

They melt against each other instantly, Kiyoomi’s arms wrapping around his dancer’s waist as he dips him slightly, bending him so he has easier access to his mouth. Atsumu’s tongue presses against Kiyoomi’s bottom lip until his lips part for it, and he wastes no moment to tease, eager to taste his lover at once. He tugs on the hairs at the nape of his neck, the sound that travels from Kiyoomi’s throat into his own mouth making him shiver as he deepens the kiss. He feels surrounded by the man, enveloped in his scent and cradled by his heat.

He knows Osamu and Suna are coming soon, but the thought is lost in the back of his head as a fire consumes him, making him press impossibly closer to the King as he tries to melt into him, disappear into his being to never be seen again. He wants to go back to their room, wants to waste the afternoon feeling every crevice and dip of his body, but can’t find the will to pull back enough to voice out his request.

“Oh, _gross_.”

His twin’s voice is clear as day as it breaks through his moment, and Atsumu — because he is still a little brat when it comes to Osamu — makes sure to open one eye and flip him the bird while enjoying the kiss for a few moments longer. When he pulls away, he grins through his spit-slick lips, not moving from his lover’s embrace even as Osamu rolls his eyes.

“I see you’re all better then,” Suna says from next to Osamu, expressionless as he looks between Atsumu and the King.

“Yeah, Sunarin, thanks for the concern,” the dancer says teasingly, before glancing at Kiyoomi, who’s watching him, eyes hooded and clouded over slightly; he chuckles before he looks back at his best friend and his brother. “Actually, we’re better than fine. Omi here proposed to me last night, in fact.” He says, casually, lifting his left hand to show off the simple ring adorning his fourth finger. “So ya better get ready ‘cause apparently we can’t have a small weddin’, like Bokkun an’ Akaashi did.”

“You— what?” Osamu blinks, and in the next moment he’s tugging at Atsumu’s hand, looking at the ring up close. “No shit. You’re gettin’ married? _You_?” His tone is so shocked, the dancer can’t help the amused snort as he allows his brother to maneuver his hand this way and that to take a closer look at the jewelry. “What the— Tsumu! Ya can’t get married before I do! Suna an’ I’ve been together for years, you’ve been together like half a year! S’not fair!”

“And whose fault is that?” Atsumu replies, regretfully pulling away from Kiyoomi, who watches the twins interact with amusement. He turns to Osamu with his free hand on his hip. “Ya know ya could’ve proposed already, if ya weren’t such a chicken,” he teases, but before he can make fun of his twin any longer, he’s tugged down and into a tight hug.

The Miya twins butt heads more often than not. They fight about small things and big things, and they don’t see eye to eye on everything. Every other sentence, an insult is thrown between the two, until it becomes a matter of whose insult is better rather than how logical it is. Their dynamic has always been as such — competitive to the bone, they’ve been striving to outdo one another ever since they were born. Still, they’re the only family each other has left; there’s no parents for them to rely on, no one else that’s been with them through all the struggles they’ve had to endure. It’s always been the two of them against the world, even when Osamu found love in Suna and they began courting.

“Tsumu, you’re gettin’ married,” the grey-haired twin says against Atsumu’s shoulder, his strong arms holding him close. Atsumu gives as good as he gets, his own arms locking Osamu in his embrace with no chance of escape.

“Guess I am, Samu,” the dancer whispers back, a grin on his face. “Thanks for not lettin’ me leave last night. If ya hadn’t been there, I’d have been long gone by the time Omi reached me an’ I never would’ve known he loves me back,” he says in a moment of seriousness, allowing his brother to know just how grateful he is for him. “I dunno how things are gonna work yet, but I hope ya know that you an’ I aren’t gonna change, yeah? I’m still gonna stop by the kitchens every day to bug ya.”

“Wouldn’t expect anythin’ else, Tsumu,” Osamu replies with what Atsumu suspects are tears in his voice, but he doesn’t point it out. “You’re still gonna be yer annoyin’ self, an’ I’m still gonna call ya out on it even if ya become king or whatever.” There’s a pause, and then Osamu’s embrace becomes a little tighter. “I’m proud of ya, jerk.”

Atsumu laughs softly at the insult, but the tears pool in the corners of his eyes all the same. Osamu’s been his pillar all of his life — he’s been fending off unwanted hands whenever Atsumu’s too tired to do it himself, he’s been pushing him to be better, helping him grow as best as he can. He’s been the voice of reason when Atsumu couldn’t hear his own, and the motivator behind his tenacity to make a better life for the two of them. He will never forget everything he and Osamu have been through, but he’s glad he gets to provide him with a better life as well, now.

“Don’t get all sappy on me, c’mon,” he whispers after he’s sure his voice doesn’t wobble with his unshed tears, pulling back right after.

He finds Suna watching the two with a twinkle in his eye, no doubt a part of his love shining in his irises, and opens his arms to embrace his best friend. Suna’s a jerk, always had been; he says things without measuring the consequences and he doesn’t care what that makes others think of him. Atsumu likes his brutal honesty and how he loves Osamu without boundaries; he likes how he cares for his twin like it’s his only goal in life but joins in on teasing him when Atsumu starts doing it. They’ve made memories together, the three of them, and Atsumu sees him like his brother already, even if he and Osamu never marry.

“Congratulations, asshole,” Suna says to him as they hug, their embrace much shorter than the one Atsumu shared with his twin.

When he pulls back, he laughs at the sight of Kiyoomi’s panicked expression as Osamu throws his arms around him, etiquette forgotten as he welcomes him to the family. He knows he’ll be the one to take the King’s name, so they can continue the lineage of Sakusa’s leading their kingdom, but as he sees his brother pat his fiancé’s back and whisper something he can’t understand in his ear, he can’t help but feel like he’s a part of the Miya family as well. The warmth of the moment eases all of his unbidden bad feelings from that morning, and he finds himself smiling widely at the exchange, leaning against Suna as the two watch their better-halves talk amidst themselves.

“Are ya done over there?” Atsumu asks as he sees Osamu pull away from Kiyoomi, sniffling and lifting the back of his hand to rub his eyes, cleaning his face of the tears that slipped through. “I’m hungry an’ tired of this dumb room.” He pushes away from his best friend and into Kiyoomi once more, wrapping his arm around his waist as best as he can, turning to look at his twin. “What’s for lunch, Samu?”

“Dunno, ya had me taken from the kitchen before I could check, ya dumbass,” his twin says, eyes rolling when Atsumu pokes his tongue out at him in reply. “You’re so childish, Tsumu,” he continues, fighting a grin as he reaches for Suna’s hand. “Let’s go the kitchens an’ I’ll fix ya somethin’, ya big idiot.”

Atsumu chuckles as he finds an insult to throw right back at his twin, the banter between the two carrying them as they walk through the halls. Bokuto is walking ahead of them, Hinata at their rear, and it feels easy. To exist the same as he always has, to behave the same way, despite the man whose arm around his shoulders reminds him he’s found someone new that loves him. It’s not just him and Osamu anymore; it’s not just him third-wheeling his twin and Suna as they try not to be obnoxiously in love when he’s around. Now, their family is of four — even larger if he counts the members of the royal court that Atsumu’s found himself befriending along the way.

He’s surrounded by people who love him and who he loves in return, and it’s such a beautiful feeling, he finds himself smiling even as he eats lunch. Even when he’s stuck inside the throne room for the afternoon, his heart feels light. When he goes to bed that night, his head is clear and his entire soul is shimmering with happiness. He shares that feeling with his King, his husband to be, his _everything_ ; he shares all of himself and regrets nothing. He laughs, and smiles, and teases.

And he loves, and he loves, and he loves...


End file.
